Knockout
by Crazy Girl Person
Summary: Angie was not particularly close to him. But when one surgery turns into a three day waiting game, she starts to wonder if Derek really is more than just a colleague to her.
1. Faint

Knockout

Chapter 1: Faint

Silence was thick. Even the rustle of activity from the busy hospital's hallways seemed dull and distant to the nurse.

Angie stared intently at her lap, her hair inciting a mild tickle from her cheeks in the room's gentle draft. On her lap rested both of her hands, which carefully fumbled with a pair of glasses. For several minutes she had been tilting, turning and unfolding them, listening to the small creaks from the hinges. She let out a sigh. The owner of these glasses should be wearing them right now, but they would do him little good. Glasses are useless to a person when he or she is unconscious.

But . . . he should not have been unconscious either. Yet, he was.

Angie let out another sigh as her index finger tenderly jiggled one of the nose pads. She should not be here. She should be checking on the patient she and the doctor she had been paired with had just treated. They both should be doing their rounds and preparing for the next surgery. But they were not . . . she was sitting solemnly in that chair and he was . . .

She stopped fiddling with the glasses, instead folding them up gently and holding them in the palms of her hands. The events that had led her to this place were as muffled as the consistent rustle from the hallway, but the nurse was able to retrace her memory. Slowly, she was able to piece together what had brought her here . . .

. . . from the moment Dr. Stiles had collapsed.

--

"Let's close him up."

Tension in the operating room was not an uncommon thing by any means. Skilled surgeons and nurses moved around it with relative ease, but it was there all the same, yanking at their nerves and pushing them to the limit at times. The same was true for the unexpected circumstances surrounding Mario Kovac's surgery. Aneurysms were relatively common as was treating them, though the abundance in which the patient's final bout of weakened blood vessels appeared did take the surgical team by surprise for a moment.

And only for a moment.

Their professional judgment had stepped in and allowed them to analyze the situation. Not as though they needed to think about it - five aneurysms at once, with little time to treat them. What they needed was time. Time that only one thing could give them –

"Doctor! Your Healing Touch . . .!"

Even though she had been the one to spout that suggestion, Angie could not help but flinch upon watching it again. She thought nothing of it the first time she had witnessed it, chalking up the stress of the deadly situation to her thinking she had just seen Dr. Stiles suture a severe wound in a fraction of a second. The second time left her dazed, wondering for the remainder of that day if she had blacked out. Though now that she knew what she was seeing she could not help but feel intimidated and awed by it.

The Healing Touch . . . a surgical technique that only a select few wielded. And Dr. Stiles was one of them.

She had attempted to observe it as best she could, but it was only in the second that she realized how impossible that would be that it was over. The treatment was completed and the patient was stabilized, leaving Derek only with the task of closing the incision and placing the bandage.

Greg had been collected as ever. He could not help but smirk as he watched his mentee handle both the Healing Touch's power and the surgery with relative ease. The young man had certainly come along way. He never would have guessed that the tardy and forgetful surgeon would have made such a drastic improvement in skill and in taking his job seriously. Yet, here he was witnessing just that, and he could not have been prouder.

Neither nurse nor head surgeon had noticed the paled expression on Derek's face or the shake in his hands as he applied the bandage.

"I see you learned to control the Healing Touch." Greg commented. "Make sure you don't rely on it too much. You still need to hone your natural skills."

Derek took a step back and removed his surgical mask with a nod. This time Greg had noticed the hint of exhaustion on the younger man's face, giving a sympathetic smile before continuing. "I know it won't be easy, but you didn't take this job because . . ."

Greg trailed of upon noticing the young surgeon's distant stare. "Derek, are you even listening?" he sighed inwardly. He was no stranger to Derek's tendency to daydream, but the knowing smirk on his face fell as the younger man began to sway. "Derek? What's wrong?!"

Derek's response was immediate and to the point. A shuddered breath left him as his eyes rolled up, followed by his legs giving out underneath him and sending him crashing to the floor. The sound of his limp hand taking out the surgical tray produced a cringe inducing wince in the small room, but the sickening thud of his body against the tiles was potent enough to draw a gasp from the pair that watched him fall.

"Derek!"

"Dr. Stiles!"

Greg was at his side in a flash, kneeling beside him and pressing his fingers to his neck to check his pulse. After a quick inspection of his circulation and airways, he carefully removed the glasses from the unconscious doctor's face, folding them up and placing them in his chest coat pocket. "Angie." he said as he carefully turned Derek's head to the side. "I need you to get back up from the lounge. Tell them to bring a gurney." Withdrawing a penlight, he peeled back Derek's eyelid but paused in his examination. He glanced up upon hearing no reaction from the nurse, his brows rising as she simply stood there. "Angie?"

She snapped out of it at once, the fingers that had lightly been pressed to her lips jerking from her face and curling into a fist. "Yes, Dr. Kasal. Right away."

--

The sharp click of her flats carried her from the OR and out into the hall, her mind racing as quickly as the heart pounding in her ribcage. Several first aid procedures had come flooding to her mind the moment she watched Derek collapse, all of them she had performed successfully in emergency situations. However, as she had watched Greg step up and begin checking the fainted doctor's vitals, she found her body unable to follow through the motions she knew so well. Instead she could only stand, her mind screaming orders at her but her body unwilling to listen.

Even now as she rushed to the doctors' lounge for assistance, she could feel the shallow breath rapidly rushing through her lips. _'Why? What am I doing? Why can't I calm down?'_

She drank in a relieved gasp at the sight of Dr. Kevin Lu, whose focus was brought up from the chart he had been carrying upon Angie's flailing hands. She vaguely heard herself explain the situation, two other nurses overhearing her and swiftly retrieving a stretcher. From there, she quickly lead them back to the surgical ward, gurney wheels squeaking on the heels of several footsteps, all of which overpowering the murmur of voices in the nurse's head.

They pushed open the swinging doors, Angie taking place at Derek's side as the others collapsed the stretcher and prepared to load him onto it. With the surgeon securely loaded on, they wheeled him off under the direction of Dr. Kasal. They quickly found an available room, Angie glancing at the surgeon with uncertainty as she lowered the bed's guard railing and assisted them in transferring him.

What followed was a blur of murmurs and movement as Derek was situated on the bed. Clicks of shoes against the tiles and the squeaking stretcher wheels poured from the room, taking the additional doctor and nurses with them. Silence more than made up for their absence as it swallowed the room and left just enough space for her uneven breathing. Staring at Derek's motionless form, Angie found that the quiet was short lived and a dull roar rose up from her mind. The few coherent thoughts that swam through her head were quickly swallowed and lost among the senseless mumbles.

A hand landed on her shoulder, pulling her from her muddled thoughts as she let out a surprised gasp. She looked up to find that the hand belonged to Greg, who stood beside her with a concerned gaze. "Are you okay?"

"Uh . . yes . . I . ." Angie's fluttered blinked matched her stammer and she quickly put and end to them both. Closing her eyes and pursing her lips, she gave her head a slow shake, reopening them as the confusion brimming in her head eased off. Her gaze quickly returned to the unconscious doctor and a small sinking pulled at her stomach. "What happened to him, Dr. Kasal?"

The resident surgeon sighed as he cupped his chin. "Fatigue, most likely. He pushed himself too far."

"The Healing Touch . . .?" she murmured, seeing Greg nod in confirmation from the corner of her eye. "Is he going to be okay?"

"He should be fine, nothing a few days of bed rest won't cure."

"I . . ." Angie's eyes shot open wide. "Mr. Kovac! We need to get him back to his room and . . ." she trailed off as Greg gave her a perplexed look.

"Angie, the other nurses and Dr. Lu are taking care of that now. You instructed them to see to Mr. Kovac yourself."

She blinked. "I . . . did?"

Greg frowned. "You should have a seat. You look a little flushed yourself."

"Right." Angie all but plopped onto the chair at the bed side, running a hand through her bangs.

"I'm going to check on Mr. Kovac and update his charts. Keep an eye on Dr. Stiles, okay?" He reached inside his coat, withdrawing the glasses he had recovered earlier and placing them on the night stand.

"Of course."

With that, Greg excused himself, leaving her in silence with the doctor turned patient. She blinked at the folded glasses, slowly turning her gaze over to their motionless owner. She sighed. It had seemed so sudden. One moment he was fine and the next . . .

Angie looked back at the glasses on the table. She took them into her hands, her grip on them delicate as though they would shatter. She sighed again as she leaned back and absently stared at them. "You know, Dr. Stiles, when I told you to work harder I didn't mean for you to push yourself to the point of passing out."

Though she expected no response from him, she glanced over and frowned as he slumbered on. Her eyelids drooped lazily as she looked back at his glasses. "You're going to get a stern talking to when you wake up." she mumbled as her frown tightened. Though her body had been forced to settle from exhaustion, her heart was still pounding in the wake of Derek's abrupt spill. "Why am I so nervous? Why couldn't I move back there?"

Angie knew she was worried, and she admitted it to herself too. It was never a good thing when people fainted, though it was one of the more frequent and less urgent things she had to deal with as a nurse. She had seen it all the time and dealt with more intense situations flawlessly. Yet, her heart leapt into her throat and threatened to choke her the moment she watched the surgeon crumple to the floor. She sighed again, her eyes growing narrow in frustration with herself.

And as Angie tried to contemplate what would have caused her to lose it, she looked at Derek's sleeping face and suddenly realized why.

--

A/N: If you need to be told at what point in the game this takes place in, you fail. F-A-I-L.

There will be more chapters, so rest easy. I basically decided to kick my ass in gear and start writing more regularly. Now that I don't have classes until June 2nd I don't have any excuses.

So yes, here's an idea that's been floating in my head a while and I decided to use this down time to actually write it. I hope you all enjoyed it and look forward to the next part.

But if you'll excuse me, I'm going to watch Iron Man again because –

One: It was just that bad ass

Two: Apparently there's a part after the credits that I missed so I have to watch it again. As you can see, I'm _very_ disappointed about having to watch Iron Man again . . . very . .

See you next chapter!


	2. Worthy

Knockout

Chapter 2: Worthy

Good Saint's Hospital had a lot of firsts. For one, it was the first hospital that Angie Thompson had worked at since moving to the United States. It was also the first one she had worked in under the role of a fully registered nurse, having interned and earned her international license while still studying in Germany. It was the first place she really got to build up her reputation in the medical field. And now, under Angie's watchful eye, new nurse Anna Wilkins had just inducted her first IV.

"Whew . . . I'm glad that's over . . ." Anna sighed quietly, grinning as she pressed her chart to her chest. Angie smiled at her as they left the room to let their patient rest. Another first this hospital had for her was the chance to introduce those just out of nursing school to the hospital protocol. It was something she prided herself on, not just from knowing the respect she had earned in being trusted with this position, but in watching those she taught improve and gain confidence. "You did really well today, Anna. I'll be sure to let Theresa know."

"Oh, thank you, Angie." Anna breathed in relief. "It gets so nerve-wracking sometimes. I'm a little embarrassed . . ."

"Don't be. You're doing a great job!"

"Well, you two sure are happy about something."

The voice that drew the attention of the two nurses was that of a woman, garbed in green surgical scrubs and casually propped up against the wall. She smiled at them both, her arms crossed nonchalantly over her chest as she earned a grin from the girls she addressed. "Oh, hello Dr. Miller!" Angie said.

"Hello, Nurse Thompson." she returned the gesture with a nod as she pushed herself from the wall and walked towards the pair. "You must be one of the new nurses. Anna Wilkins, is it?"

"Yes, that's me, Ma'am." Anna said. "Angie's been training me on hospital protocol."

"Well, you're certainly lucky to have her showing you the ropes. She's the best around here, you know."

"D-Dr. Miller . . ." Angie glanced at the ground, rubbing her arm as a small blush bloomed on her cheeks.

"I hate to interrupt your training, but I was actually wondering if I could have a word with you for a moment, Nurse Thompson."

"Of course, Dr. Miller. I'll see you at lunch, Anna."

"Okay, see you, Angie."

A casual wave was shared between the nurses as they parted, leaving Angie in the company of the resident surgeon, Dr. Sarah Miller. Upon entering the medical field, Angie had forced herself to purge the idea of all those hospital dramas she had watched on TV. Her career as a nurse would be nothing like that and she would not be encountering any doctors quite like the characters she had grown up with, or so she had thought.

Following the traditions of firsts Good Saint's had in store for her, Sarah had entered the scene and somehow managed to possess all of the characteristics of what Angie imagined a true doctor to have. Calm, confident, friendly, intelligent - just seeing her work had inspired the nurse to be the best she could be and to help others in turn. But what amazed her the most was the fact that no matter how stressful things got, it was rare to not see a smile on the doctor's face. Even now, as Sarah sighed heavily and placed her hands on her hips, there was a timid grin on her face.

Angie on the other hand could not help but frown at her superior's actions. "Is something wrong, Dr. Miller?"

"Yes and no." she said. "Tomorrow's my last day here before I transfer to a new hospital."

Angie sighed as well as she brushed her hair back. "I know. It's not like it's a surprise, but it still seems so sudden. I'm really going to miss working with you. You've been such an inspiration to me."

Sarah smiled. "It means a lot to me that you'd say that. We'll have to make the most of our last day together."

"We'll certainly have our work cut out for us. "Angie laughed. "Have you seen the operation schedule?"

"Yeah, looks like they're trying to squeeze every last drop out of me before I leave." Sarah grinned and crossed her arms. "We'll barely have any breaks, which is why I wanted to talk to you today."

"What did you want to talk about?"

"Your future as a nurse."

Angie's brows lifted at that. "Oh?"

"Yes, now don't get me wrong. You're incredibly skilled and hardworking for your age . . ." she stopped to push the long blonde tresses from her eyes. "but that's what I'm concerned about."

Angie's frown returned at that. "I'm afraid I don't understand, Dr. Miller."

"I'll be frank then, Angie. You're too good."

"Too good?"

"Ever since you started working here you've always been in control. You're used to being dependable, training the new nurses just out of school – most of which are older than you – the one that the entire nursing staff looks to for the answer."

Angie's frown grew taught. "Where exactly are you going with this, doctor?"

"Don't think that I'm second guessing your abilities, but the truth of the matter is that you're human. There's going to come a point in time in which you won't have that answer."

"And?"

Sarah sighed. "I'm worried about how you'll handle it."

Thick tension descended upon the pair, growing tighter as Angie's eyes narrowed. "You don't think I can."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to. Dr. Miller, I've help you treat all kinds of patients!" she exclaimed with a toss of her arms. "Cases of heart attacks, cardiac arrest, car accident victims . . ."

"And you've done wonderfully, Angie." Sarah replied in exasperation. "You've handled them all with a cool head, but cases like this barely scratch the surface. I'm afraid that one day you'll get in over your head and you won't know what to do with yourself."

"Won't know what do to with myself?" Angie gaped. "Dr. Miller, I may be the youngest nurse on staff, but I'm one of the most experienced. I thought you, of all people, would understand that."

The annoyed flicker of Angie's brow grew more feral as the surgeon chuckled, letting her hair spill over her shoulders as she placed her hands back on her hips. "I knew you were going to react like this." she sighed. "Angie, please don't take this the wrong way, but you're not as experienced as you think you are."

"What?"

Sarah held up a hand to silence the nurse, unperturbed by her reaction. "There'll come a time in your career that your mind will run blank. A patient will be before you, dying, and you won't know how to treat them. For that brief moment all of your training and everything you've learned will leave you. You can never know just how you'll react in that situation until you've been through it."

"So, if this is something that everyone goes through, why are you so worried about me?"

"It's a matter of the experience you pride yourself on working against you. I don't know how else to say this . . . but the higher you are, the harder you fall."

The perturbed expression she wore twisted into a scowl. "So I'm egotistical, then?"

"Angie . . ."

"Dr. Miller – how could you say this? I'm not claiming to be the best nurse in the world, but I like to think I'm pretty good at my _job_!"

"Angie!"

"And you . . . you said I was the best around here! If you really meant that then you'd have some faith in me . . . or was that just a lie?!"

"Angie! Wait!"

It was too late to stop the huffing nurse, the squeak her heel made against the tiles as she turned causing them both to cringe. But she moved on, hurt and angered that the doctor she admired so much could have such little faith in her. That had regretfully been another first for her; her first major disappointment on her career path. She bit down on her quivering lip as she could not help but wonder. Had Dr. Miller ever really believed in her at all?

--

Angie gave a rough sigh as she flicked her hair behind her ear. Stupid, it had been such a stupid thing to get worked up over. She allowed the relationship with the first surgeon she had ever worked with to turn sour. She barely spoke a word to Dr. Miller during their last shift together, pushing herself to the limit to show her what she was made of. She wanted Sarah to admit she was wrong. Instead, all she got as a somber "goodbye, and good luck, Nurse Thompson." as the doctor cleaned out her locker and walked through the hospital doors for the final time.

Another agitated breath pushed through Angie's lips. Would she ever see Dr. Miller again? Would she get the chance to apologize for being such a fool?

'_Not likely. .'_ she thought bitterly as her brows knitted.

She focused back on the glasses she fumbled with. She had let her pride get the better of her, let it ruin a valued friendship and set herself up for the massive tumble she had been warned about.

Such a stupid thing to do . . . when Dr. Sarah Miller had been right all along.

--

'_Ugh! Stupid!'_

Angie pushed out a huffed breath as she stormed down the hall. _'Completely irresponsible . . . how do people like that even get this far?'_ Her mind boiled as she thought of Dr. . . . of _Mr._ Stiles and the patient he had neglected. Even an hour after he had been dismissed from Dr. Hoffman's office she was still seething and, at that moment, she did not care if she never saw him again.

She slammed the patient file she had been carrying in the drop box, causing those in the hall to part for her as she stomped to the nurses' stations. She made her way to the first table she saw. Collapsing into a chair, she folded her arms and rested her head on them, thoroughly exhausted from the anger. "What an idiot . . ." she mumbled, her voice muffled by her sleeve as she rested her forehead against her arms. Not finding it in herself to go to the on-call room, she allowed herself to drift off in hopes of re-charging for the rest of her shift.

--

"Nurse!"

The voice startled her onto her feet, the loud clatter of the chair she pushed over further awakening her. Angie quickly blinked the remaining drowsiness from her eyes as she took in the frantic EMT. "W-what's going on?"

"We've got two patients coming in, both in critical condition. One has been brought into surgery but the other's crashing and we can't find any doctors! Where are they?"

"The doctors?" Angie's eyes grew wide. Dr. Kasal was out of town and Derek . . . "There aren't any."

"Well somebody has to do something or we're gonna lose this guy!"

"Then I'll do it. Take me to the patient."

The EMT nodded and quickly sprinted down the hall with her in tow. Rushing towards the OR she could allow herself to pretend the run was the cause of her pounding heart. It was not as though she doubted herself. She had no reason to, she was experienced. It was just . . . this would be her first time flying solo but the EMT had summed it up. If someone did not do something the patient would die. So she quickly crushed the nerves that pestered her with a curt shake of her head, instead running a list of common conditions associated with car accidents through her mind. This was nothing. She could handle it.

However -

The sight of blood was nothing new to Angie. She had seen it growing up, during the many times she had fallen and scraped her knee, and she had seen it even more as a nurse. Yet, the moment she pushed open the OR doors and saw the rivers of scarlet pouring down the young patient's sides, courtesy of the various glass shards in his body, she could do nothing to stop her eyes from growing wide. "It's worse than I thought . . ."

"Yes, he's bleeding badly and his heart was fibrillating on the way over. Are you sure you can handle this?"

"I . . . I don't have a choice, but . . ." Angie narrowed her eyes. "I can handle it."

"Good to hear. He's in your hands now."

"Right. Let's . . ." she cut herself off quickly as the EMT turned to leave. "Wait! Where are you going?"

"We've got another call. Good luck, Thompson!"

"But . . . !"

Not another word was said as the man departed, leaving the nurse alone with the grim tune of the life monitors. She whipped around, giving her head a curt not before narrowing her eyes again. "I can handle it."

--

"I . . . I can't do this!"

The patient's heart had stopped. She had seen this before. She knew what to do. She knew CPR. But . . . it was not working. The defibrillator gave her nothing. There was barely any white left on the gloves she had pulled on. But the heart remained still, not giving her a single twitch for her efforts.

'_No . . . this can't be happening . . .'_

She took a step back, her breath thin and panting. "What do I do now?"

The crash of the doors behind her may have startled her had she not already been overwhelmed with fright. It still did an efficient job of getting her attention and she turned, hoping to see that the EMTs had returned to assist her. She was certainly not expecting to see who was there instead, and even more surprising, was that she was actually relieved to see him.

"Dr. Stiles!"

He looked different. His expression was focused, mouth pulled into a tight frown as his eyes were little more than hawkish slits which quickly honed in on the operating table behind her. "Is this one of the accident victims?" he asked.

"D-Dr. Stiles . . . the patient . . ." she took in a shallow gulp as her gloved hands kneaded one another desperately. "He's . . . his heart isn't beating . . . I tried to revive him but he's . . . what do I do . . .?"

"Angie."

"He . . . he'll die. Dr. Kasal's gone . . . the other nurses are busy . . . I need help! No one's here to help! He'll die! He'll die!"

"Angie! Stop saying that!" The outburst affectively pulled a jerk from the nurse's trembling body, but Derek was far from finished there. "Get a hold of yourself! The only person who needs help is the patient, and we're the ones who are going to help him! We're the only ones who can and it's up to us to save him. I can't do this without you Angie, so get it together!"

"D-Dr. Stiles . . . ." she gasped, her breath thin but a few controlled inhales managed to steady it. "I . . . what do you need me to do?"

"Pretend this is a normal procedure." Derek said, tying on his surgical mask. "Calm down and think things through . . ."

"Pulse . . . we need to get his pulse back."

"Understood." The surgeon snapped his gloves on. "Let's save his life!"

--

As Derek began placing the bandage on the patient's chest, Angie was in too much awe to notice that her body was still shaking. She could not believe what she just saw. Was this really the same doctor whose negligence almost cost a patient his life? But there he was, calm and collected even as his scrubs sported several blood stains from the operation. The patient had almost died on them three times, but not once did the surgeon break down.

"There." he murmured as he finished bandaging the patient's wounds. "How are his vitals?"

"Stable . . . and good all things considered." she sighed and removed her gloves, her breath slowly flowing into a relieved laugh.

Derek joined in as he removed his mask, revealing the same grin he wore when they had first met. She did not like that grin at first. He looked like one of those arrogant slackers that liked to boost about false accomplishments. But now . . . it did not annoy her, she actually kind of liked it. "Are you okay?" he asked. "You're shaking."

"Oh . . ." she glanced at the floor, her laughs slowly trickling off. "I . . . I was so scared, Doctor. I could feel the patient slipping away and I froze. All I wanted to do was run away. But you . . ." she looked up at him. "You didn't worry at all. You held your ground and did what had to be done. You are . . . you're a real doctor."

His smile softened at her words, taking in their sincerity as she broken into a grin herself. "Thank you, Dr. Stiles!"

--

"_Thank you, Dr. Stiles!"_

Her own voice echoed in her mind and she could not help but smile at it. Where she had lost her cool, Derek had stepped up to the challenge. The moment she regarded him as a true doctor she found her respect for him growing by the day. And honestly, he was not such a bad guy. The better and more often they worked together, the more she found herself liking him. She could even see herself considering him a friend one day.

She sighed, still clutching his glasses as she glanced over at him. Who was she kidding? She already did.

And . . . she did not like the fact that her friend had not stirred in over twenty minutes. If it was fatigue like Dr. Kasal said, then Derek certainly would not be on his feet for a while, but he should have at least regained consciousness by now.

"How is he?" Greg asked as he entered the room.

"No changes in his condition, Dr. Kasal."

"Hmm . . . that's a bit unusual." the surgeon mused, his brow creasing with concern. "I'm going to recheck his vitals. Thank you for watching him, Angie."

"Of course, Dr. Kasal."

"I need you to head off to room 103. I've scheduled Dr. Norman for the three 'o clock appendectomy Dr. Stiles was supposed to perform."

"Oh . . . yes, Doctor." she said, hiding her disappointment behind her professional front. She really did not want to leave his side. He should have woken up by now, true he would probably be a little groggy and perhaps incoherent, but he would be awake. Reluctantly, she placed the glasses back on the night stand and headed for the mentioned room. Though she wanted to keep watch over him, Derek would not want her neglecting their patients for his sake, and perhaps the operation would be just the distraction she needed from her worry.

Angie took a breath as she walked down the hall and tried to ignore the flutter in her gut that told her something was wrong. It was just fatigue . . . he would be awake by the time she came back.

--

A/N: I hope you liked the little back story I gave in regards to Angie's career. Not really much to say in regards to this one other than I hope you liked it, and please take the time to let me know what you thought. Next chapter is already in the works, so I'll see you again then.


	3. Just Asleep

A/N: Just a few words shy of 3,000 – my chapters suck. All short and crap. Meh, oh well. At the moment I type this I'm 44 minutes away from my weekend. It's still hard for me to believe I have weekends off for a change and working the night shift was well worth it. Enough blabber! Onward fic go!

Knockout

Chapter 3: Just Asleep

The resounding tap of a pen on paper was easily the loudest sound in the empty room, and quite frankly, it was really getting on Angie's nerves. She sighed, glaring at the blank spaces on her paper work that should have been filled in. This was normally not a problem for her. Though now, the bright white of the paper was stinging her eyes, her mind unable to rid itself of the worry that plagued it.

It was insistent, dragging her thoughts down to the earlier events of that day in intervals. Without the will to fight it, she found her mind drifting back to that afternoon, the tap of her pen thankfully fading out as her memories replayed.

--

As much as Angie wanted to just scribble down the numbers on the chart she managed to use enough restraint to at least make it legible. She assumed Dr. Norman would appreciate being able to read his patient's status.

His patient . . . this was not supposed to be his patient . . .

'_It's okay.'_ she sighed and clipped the file to the end of the patient's bed. _'He should be fine now. He should have regained consciousness.'_

She took a deep breath in hopes of calming her anxiously beating heart. She left that room and began down the hall towards room 094, vaguely mindful of the nervous ruffles her fingers were creasing into her uniform. She would just peak in for a moment, see for herself that he was alright, and go on with her day without distraction.

She would . . .

Angie had been unaware of the breath she had been holding until she released it in a heavy sigh. Derek had not moved an inch, not even bothered to twitch in protest as Greg examined his eyes with his sharp pen light. She winced slightly at the ill feeling spreading through her stomach. It had been over three hours since he had collapsed.

Why had he not woken up?

She looked up from Derek's sleeping face upon feeling someone's gaze fall upon her. Her eyes widened for a brief moment as they met with Greg's and she quickly recovered by clearing her throat, forcing herself into a professional front. "Have there been any changes in Dr. Stiles' condition?"

It was Greg's turn to sigh and he did so, frowning with a mild head shake. "None. He's completely unresponsive, but he doesn't appear concuss." Placing the pen light in his coat, he ran a hand over his head and picked up the chart at the foot of the bed. "Keep an eye on him for a second, okay Angie?"

"Yes, Dr. Kasal." she said as she stepped aside to let him through.

She walked over to his bedside, her fingers still kneading anxiously into her uniform. Again he remained motionless, breathing deeply as though he were just asleep. The only part of him that actually stirred as his hair. It swayed in the light breeze from the room's air conditioning as she felt a smile tug at her lips. Even at rest, Derek's hair had a blatant disregard for order and stuck out in every which way. She remembered asking him to do something about that and to give him credit, he had tried. She has caught him combing his hair during the brief free moments they had during their shifts. In the end, his hair proved untamable and Angie just shrugged, realizing he could not help it. It was just a part of him.

But as the days had passed, she found herself disliking it less and less.

And as she blinked curiously at it, she felt her hand slowly reach out to stroke it. _'Just . . . just to get his bangs out of his eyes . . .' _she mused, scrunching her mouth as she felt his locks flow smoothly through her fingers. She smiled timidly . . .

"Angie."

Her fingers withdrew as though burned, coming to rest over her mouth as she gave a forced cough. She put on a serious look in hopes that it would suppress the blush somewhat, though if Greg had noticed he did not show much interest. "Angie, I have a new patient for you."

"A new patient?" she asked. The surgeon nodded and stepped towards her, handing her a file. She took it, her glance at it brief as she looked up the moment she read the patient's name. "This is Dr. Stiles' chart."

"Exactly." Greg said. "Derek is a patient and I have assigned the both of us to his care. You'll still need to assist the other surgeons with their patients and follow up on those in post-op care, but for the time being I'd like you to see to Dr. Stiles. Can you do that?"

"Of course, Dr. Kasal."

"Good. I have another patient to see to so I'll need you to monitor his vitals and keep his chart up to date. I have him scheduled for a CT scan in an hour if there are no changes in his condition."

"I understand."

"All right, I'll be back in an hour."

Greg left, leaving Angie to look at her new . . . patient.

--

Angie tightened her glare on the form as a soft growl poured from her.

The pound of the pen on paper had grown louder, twitching in her restless fingers and grating further on her nerves. She rubbed her forehead with her free hand as she let out a sigh. "C'mon, just concentrate. You just need to fill these files out. Just . . . stop getting distracted and do it!"

With a stiff upper lip she stabbed the end of her pen onto the forms, finally staining them with the ink. She forced all thought onto the numbers and conditions that needed to be updated, managing to fill out one page before her mind gave out, the memories from earlier once again crashing upon her. She conceded with a sigh, not finding it in herself to fight it and honestly, she did not care to either.

--

"The CT scan's clean."

Greg and Angie watched as the resident neurologist tacked the slides from Derek's scan onto a back lit board. "Everything's normal. It's like he's just sleeping . . ."

"He's completely unresponsive." Greg argued. "We've tried everything to get a reaction out of him. Nothing's worked."

"Okay. He's in a _deep_ sleep."

"Not good enough. Something's wrong with him. Find out what."

"Dr. Kasal. I realize he's your student . . ."

"He's a patient!" Greg snapped. "Do your job."

That said, Greg turned on heel with Angie following closely behind. "Angie, secure an ultrasound machine. We're going to do a scan of his chest. See if there's anything going on with his organs."

"Yes doctor."

--

The restless beat of pen on paper returned as Angie stared down the second page of the patient's form. The ultrasound had revealed no abnormalities. It really was as though Derek was only sleeping . . .

'_But he's not responding to anything. He's not even stirring.'_

A growl quietly rumbled in her throat, growing loud as she threw her pen across the room and finally putting an end to its obnoxious rapping. Not as though it had been doing her much good anyway. Small as her outburst was, it had attracted the attention of Nurse Mann, who had chosen that moment to enter the nurses station. As a nursing supervisor she was patient and understanding, though she was not about to tolerate a member of her staff inexplicitly storming past her. "Nurse Thompson, where are you going?"

"To check on a patient."

"And your paperwork?"

She turned on heel rigidly, scooping up the files and heading towards the door. "I'll finish it in his room." she said, not stopping for a response as she left.

Night had fallen and the halls fell to a hush – or rather as close to that as a hospital could get. Her footsteps remained swift at first, but slowly tapered off as they approached the room of her patient; room 094. She stepped in quietly, as though she would wake him up. If only she could . . .

It had been eight hours since he passed out and Derek had still not moved an inch. Angie let out a sigh even in knowing what to expect upon entering the room. She made her way over to his night stand, plopping her paperwork down and pulling up a chair. Despite the grim lack of movement from the surgeon, just being beside him, seeing for herself that he was still alive was . . . comforting. Though she preferred it was his voice letting her know he was still alive rather than the electrocardiogram he had been hooked up to. But, he was alive, and that was enough to let her get back to work. Finally at enough ease, she reached for her pen . .

. . . her pen . . .

"Oh, right." she sighed, recalling that she had thrown her trusty writing tool across the nurse's station. "Great." She pursed her lips and lightly drummed her fingers on the files. She really did not want to leave him, but Nurse Mann would have at least a thing or two to say if she did not complete her paperwork. "The help desk is just down the hall. I'll be back in no time." she mumbled. She rose quietly and looked at Derek. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be back in two minutes tops." she smiled somberly at the unconscious man, sighing as she took her leave.

--

"You've gotta be kidding me!"

The middle aged secretary stared Angie's outburst down with not as much as a flinch. To add further insult to injury she chewed her gum in disgustingly loud smacks and, had it not been for the scowl on her face, the nurse would have sworn she was enjoying watching her blood boil. "Sorry Thompson, but we need to have pens available at all times." she grumbled in between the exaggerated chews.

"I won't lose it. Look, I'm right down the hall. I just need one for a few hours at most!"

"Sorry, we need to have spares."

"You have fifteen!" Angie said, tossing a hand at the pen cup behind the counter. "Are you really going to lose all of them in a few hours?"

The obnoxious chewing ceased for a brief moment, though the glare the secretary ran her through with did little to calm her temper. "Where'd yours go?" she snorted.

Angie grunted. "I didn't _lose_ it. It ran out of ink . . . this in ridiculous!"

She leaned over the counter and plucked a pen from the supply cup. Surprise stretched the older woman's wrinkled face for a moment before it reverted back to a scowl. "Hey! Who do you think you are?!"

"Relax, I'm just borrowing it." she said as she walked away.

"I can have you written up for stealing!"

"It's still in the hospital!" she replied, holding the pen up between her fingers. "You'll have it back soon. I promise!" Angie did not bother to look back as an unintelligible stream of high pitched curses filled the hall. If anything it kept her back rigid as she stormed towards the corner she had come around and she took a breath of relief once she turned it again, thankful to have the unpleasant woman out of her sight. "Whatta witch . . ."

Nurturing more than a few unpleasant thoughts of the woman, she walked back to Derek's room as she lightly twirled the pen in her fingers. Her footsteps were swift at first, longing to make up for wasted time, but they slowed as quiet voices gently floated down the hall, more specifically, from Derek's room. Her forehead creased curiously. _'Does he have friends visiting him? Could . . . could he be awake?'_

It was possible. The mumbles were too low for her to put a face to them, but there was definitely at least two people talking. She moved towards the wall as her steps slowed to a crawl, leaning forward slightly. She was not _really_ ease dropping. Just checking out the situation. It would be ruder of her to interrupt, after all. Now pressed against the wall, she pretended to read over the chart just outside the room, straining her ears to put a name to the hushed murmur from within.

"I warned him."

Angie shot up at the voice. "Dr. Hoffman?" she whispered.

"Dr. Hoffman, he did what he had to to save a patient."

"And look where it's gotten him."

"Dr. Hoffman?!"

The exchange between the director and whom she easily recognized as Greg was startling to say the least. Though she had not a clue as to the context of their conversation, their grim tones were more than enough to stir and uneasy flutter within her. The thick silence that followed did not help either as she could hear the men shuffling stiffly. That tension made the few seconds it lasted feel like several minutes, its end coming in the form of a rough exhale.

"I commend him for putting the patient's safety above all else, but he's far exceeded his duties as a doctor." Hoffman muttered.

"With all due respect, are you suggesting that doctors who do everything to save a patient are going above their duty? Is there a line of effort that we're not supposed to cross?" Greg did not bother to hold back the hint of anger in his voice, a favor which Hoffman returned three folds.

"Derek's situation is different!" he snapped. "There are other avenues he could have taken. The Healing Touch is unnecessary. All he's done is open himself to pain."

Angie stood up straight at the approaching sound of footsteps. She pressed herself to the wall as the elderly man brushed through the door and veered off down the opposing hall. If he had noticed her, he did not give her as much as a glance of recognition. She watched his brisk walk away, her face growing sullen as she recalled his words.

"_All he's done is open himself to pain."_

She took a hard gulp and clutched the front of her uniform. _'What does he mean by that?'_

"There you are, Angie."

She looked up at the voice, not at all surprised to see Greg standing in the doorway. Any ill feelings he held regarding the conversation he just had were well hidden. His calm and cool composure was ever present and a light smirk was on his lips. "I had a feeling you'd be coming back here soon. That's your paperwork in there, isn't it?"

"Yes. I . . . I couldn't concentrate in the nurse's station. But I'll finish it tonight. I just had to duck out to get a pen . . ."

"So _that's_ what Wendy was yelling about." Greg chuckled. "I'll have to talk to her supervisor again. This isn't the first time she's gotten worked up over something so little. She should know better. Patients are trying to sleep."

"Yeah . . ." Angie laughed quietly, watching as Greg walked passed her to speak with the witch's supervisor no doubt. Though a more vengeful part of her did not want to prolong getting Wendy in trouble, she was compelled to stop the surgeon for the sake of the thought gnawing on her mind. "Dr. Kasal?"

"Yes?"

She crossed her arms, pursing her lips as she moved her gaze to the occupied hospital bed. "Is . . . is he in pain?"

Greg sighed softly and placed his hands in his pockets as he turned to face her fully. His eyes also lingered to where their patient rested as he rolled the words on his tongue, ending the silence only when he found the ones that tasted the least bitter.

"No Angie. He's just asleep."

An uneasy silence hung between them, lasting only a second as Greg quickly excused himself. Angie briefly watched his retreat as she entered the room and made way towards the bedside. Part of her expected Derek would give no reaction to her approach, and another part berated her for holding that expectation. _'He'll be okay!'_ her mind repeated. _'He's just . . .'_

Her feet grew heavy as she reached his bedside. The encouraging mantra was quickly becoming anything but, though the tranquility of night allowed her to appreciate the deep breaths he took. At least with the stars filtering through the window it seemed natural – as though he really were just resting for the evening. A soft laugh escaped her as the blue tinted moonlight cast a faint aura on his bangs, which were still frayed in disorder. "This hair of yours . . . it has a personality of its own, doesn't it?" she said.

Her hand reached out to touch it again and she made no effort to deter her fingers. They rested gently on his forehead at first, stroking his warm skin before running through his locks. Something about the soft texture of his hair abated her worry, ever so slightly, and drew a sigh from her lips. For that moment, she allowed her eyes to stare unfocused at his moon washed pillow. The fretful thoughts in her mind hushed, taking the beeps from the heart monitor with them.

And against her better knowledge, she allowed herself to pretend that he was just asleep.

--

A/N: It may be a while before the forth chapter gets out. I've kinda been neglecting _Hunger Strike_ and I really want to update that before I get post another chapter to this. But for the moment I'm putting my other works aside to work on my entry for TCGeek's fanfic contest on Deviant Art. This one – may kill me – but it will be awesome over my dead body!

Because for one thing, it doubles as her birthday present, therefore it's required by law for it to break a threshold of squeedom. And two, it's also partly to celebrate the release of UtK2! I am seriously excited for that! Oh man. Super cereal.

I shall end this by saying to all of you who actually have a summer vacation this year . . . enjoy it! Once you move out of your parents' house, get a full time job and start going to college, there's no such thing as "summer vacation" anymore. Get out of your houses, hang out with your friends and _do something_.

See Iron Man if you haven't already, dammit! I will never cease my proclamation of its awesomeness! NEVA!


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